John was getting fed up with Arthur and his stoicism. He was sick. Everyone could see it. He lifted his shotgun and aimed for the golden deer. Its pelt was in pristine condition.

He aimed for the head.

And for whatever reason, he hesitated.

A shot rang out and the buck startled and fell with a pained cry.

"I got it paw!" a kid yelled. "You see that? I got it."

John lowered his gun but hung back, still hidden in the bushes as he watched the deer thrash and cry. It moaned and screamed painfully as the child ran up and knelt behind it.

It struggled to stand but the kid yanked its head down forcibly. "How much meat do you think it has on it paw?"

"That will last us a couple of weeks I suppose boy. but you didn't shoot it clean. See that's all bad meat now. Ya gotta aim for the head." The father pointed with his rifle but didn't pull the trigger.

The animal continued to struggle. Its blood now covering the boy who held it down.

An especially long scream tore from its throat, desperate and fearful. It kicked out and cried, it's movements weakening.

"Put it out of its misery!" John shouted, standing.

The father raised his rifle and aimed it at John. "Why don't you mind your own business."

The kid let go of the deer and held up his small rifle as well. Mirroring his father's childish vibrato. "Yeah, keep moving!"

John returned their scowl but raised up his hands in surrender. "Fine, take it easy, I'll be on my way."

He whistled for his horse and hopped up quickly as the father shouted something about. "I knew you was a coward."

He heard the kid laugh behind him but John didn't care. He simply picked up his gun, turned towards the grinning duo and shot the deer straight in the eye.

A quick kick to his horse and he was gone. A few shots chased after him but the father's aim was as good as the sons. So he was well out of danger.

He made it back to Valintine with a wolf carcass and a few turkeys. A piddly amount but it would have to do.

He took the few dollars and made his way to the convenience store. Intent on buying some supplies for Jack and Abigail, as well as some things for Arthur. Stubbor fool would have his morning coffee laced with cough syrup if he even tried to refuse medicine from John.

Valentine bustled about its usual humdrum as its citizens went about their day. Builders and neighbors chatting amicably as John passed, head down reviewing his shopping list.

"...Arthur Morgan." someone was saying. "He never gave me their names. Please does anyone know him?"

That caught Johns attention.

"Uh, mam," John asked tentatively. The woman, a nun turned to greet him. "Did you say, Arthur Morgan?"

"Ohh," she said, with enthusiastic relief. "Thank you father." she said, hands clasped together. "you know Mr. Morgan? You are a friend of his?"

"Ahhh, well you could say that. He's kinda my brother."

"Oh, Mr. Morgan. I am so glad to meet you," she said, fishing out a small package wrapped in cheesecloth and twine. "My name is Sister Calderon, I have been trying to return this gold bar to him. He ran off in such a hurry. I didn't have time to give it back to him."

"Uh," John stammered looking at the gold brick. "What'd he give you a gold bar for?"

"Well, for that story I don't think we should be out in the middle of the street. Come to the church, please, we have much to discuss."

The amount of trust the nun had was amazing. John found himself walking beside her holding the heavy brick, absentmindedly considering what outlandish thing Arthur must have done to find it in the first place; let alone why he would give it away over donating it to camp. And to a nun?

They passed the cemetery and entered the old white building.

"Have a set Mr. Morgan."

"Ah, it's Marston." he corrected before his mind caught up with him. "Ah, we are half brothers... different fathers."

"Oh, my apologies Mr Marston."

"no problem, um now about the brick."

"Yes, you see it was in payment for... well" she pulled out a folded piece of paper. "He wrote this for those he loved. I was to deliver it to his family using his name, but he never told me who I should give it to."

"I, I don't understand, lady." John looked at the paper confused.

The nun sighed. "He, I... I don't think it is my place to say and yet... for me to have found his brother, must be a sign. Yes," she nodded to herself. "You see, Mr Morgan was told by a doctor he has Tuberculosis."

John's blood rand cold, Tuberculosis?... but the nun was still talking.

"He said there were those important to him who were in need of funds. He gave me this gold bar and told me it would be in exchange for bringing him into the Sand-Denise police to collect the ransom and send it back to his loved ones."

Horrified was not the right word. Johns' stomach dropped out and a heavy chilling devastation raced through his veins. The new information sending a shockwave through his system and he hat motionless as he mentally process what he was hearing. After a moment for the shock to dissipate, a wave of warm burning anger filled his chest.

Tears threatened to fall as his anger changed to grief. He knew Arthur was stupid but not that stupid... To trade himself for his own bounty?

A gentle warm hand cupped his own and surprisingly John did not pull away. "Mr Morgan is a troubled soul who does not understand that the value of his life is greater than gold to those who love him back."

"He's a fool." John agreed.

"Here." The nun said handing off the paper. "I believe this belongs to you. They are his words. His true feelings for the important ones in his life. Tho he expected them to only be read after his passing, I believe there is still time to teach him his true value."

"Thank you, mam," John said standing. "For everything." he paused "Here," he said handing back the gold brick. "Take this."

"Mr. Marston. That is very generous of you..."

"Your right, my brother's life is worth more this and he needs to learn that." He slipped the gold brick back into her hands, tipped his had and turned to storm out of the church. "He'll learn that when I tell him I gave away his stupid brick."

The nun watched him leave.

"They are very different boys now that Micah is gone," she said to the room. "They have grown so much in such a short time."

"Yes," The Strainge Man said coming out from around the pulpit. "They have both grown in surprising ways. I wonder if others have as well."